


Now I'm a Non-believer

by muses_circle



Series: The Stanford Years [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Saving People Hunting Things, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muses_circle/pseuds/muses_circle
Summary: His hunting days were over. He was never going back. Time to put all of that to rest.





	Now I'm a Non-believer

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during Sam's time at stanford University.

“Man, I’m telling you, our dorm room’s haunted or something.”

Sam looked up from his _History of Medieval England_ textbook and tried not to make a face. This was the third time his roommate, Joe Messina, had brought up the fact that he believed something was haunting Branner Hall. Even though they had been roommates for nearly two semesters, Sam was convinced that Joe saw and heard things because he spent more time watching horror flicks and boozing it up than studying. Neither of which Sam wanted to partake in.

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked and tapped his fingers on the page he’d left.

“Hello? Have you _heard_ all the noises at night? Not to mention those weird shadows I see on the walls. Creepy as hell, if you ask me,” Joe said and shuddered. “Seriously, this floor has got to be haunted.”

Wiping his hand over his face, Sam wanted to laugh. Branner Hall wasn’t haunted. He’d done his research and made sure of that before he signed his lease and moved in. No violent deaths or suicides meant no spirits, and as far as he was concerned, the only truly frightening thing was their RA - a dude so tall and gangly that he towered above Sam and always looked like he wanted to kill anyone who made noise after midnight. A ghost-free experience; that was what he wanted. That was the _last_ thing Sam wanted to deal with.

“Ever thought that the shadows on the wall might be from the tree outside?” Sam asked and frowned. “I mean, there’s one just outside the window.” He pointed towards their small single-pane to emphasize his words.

But Joe shook his head. “No way,” he said emphatically, “it’s definitely a ghost or something.”

Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary,” he replied and looked longingly down at his book. Edward I was waiting, and he’d personally rather study the dead king’s war-mongering than talk about spirits.

“That’s because you ain’t paying attention,” Joe replied and shot Sam a glare before turning on the television. _Friday the 13 th, part four_ was on the campus movie channel.

 _Great_ , Sam thought and focused on the page in his book. He couldn’t deny Joe had a point. In the year since he’d left his dad and brother, Sam had immersed himself in college life: his classes, meeting new people, forming and participating in study sessions, and spending as much time away from his roommate as possible. The Green Library had become his favorite hangout spot during the year. Hardly surprising, considering Sam was more interested in occupying himself with the present in order to forget the past.

_Fine. You wanna go? Then don’t come back. Me and Dean aren’t waiting around for you._

He winced at the harsh words but knew Joe hadn’t seen it, being totally engrossed in watching someone being slashed to pieces. Dad didn’t understand: all Sam ever wanted was a normal life. No traipsing across the country, hunting down evil things. He never wanted to know what lurked in the night: no kid should have grown up the way he and Dean had.

Sam wanted the stability that a good education that a job provided, so that one day, the hardest decision he would ever make is whether to propose to his future girlfriend, and buy versus rent once they got married.

Dad _had_ normal with Mom. And Dad had Dean to hunt with him. Dean relished the hunt and threw his entire being into it. _How the hell did I fit into that grand scheme of things?_ he asked himself.

The truth was, he didn’t. Never had. Which was why Sam ultimately left – to forge his own destiny. To rise above his upbringing and change the way the Winchester clan survived in a world gone mad.

His hunting days were over. He was never going back. Time to put all of that to rest.

“See what I mean?” Joe’s angry question interrupted Sam’s thoughts. “There you go, off to frickin’ La-La Land while I’m in the middle of a crisis here. Did you hear a word I said?”

This time Sam let his irritation show. “You were watching that stupid movie,” he complained. “What was there to hear, besides the screaming and splashing fake blood?” Feeling his ire rise – whether from his melancholy thoughts or his stupid roommate, Sam wasn’t sure – he glowered at Joe and closed his book. “Trust me, will ya? The floor isn’t haunted. The noises at night? That’s from the trees scraping on the window. Not to mention those idiot frat boys who like to drink and party until 4AM.”

“Those _idiots_ are my boys,” Joe said.

 _Then why aren’t you living with them?_ Sam asked himself and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Besides, you haven’t felt those cold spots. Not like I have.”

Sam pointed to the air duct on the ceiling. “Have you ever thought it’s because the AC’s pointed on _your_ side of the room?”

Joe shut off the television and stood up. “Sam, stop being a pain in the ass about this,” he demanded. “I can’t tell you the last time I slept from all this crap going on.”

 _Might be from all the all-night parties?_ He felt the smirk grow pronounced across his lips. _Or maybe all the times you tried to score and forced me to sleep in the library?_ Never mind that he had found his roommate sound asleep on the floor, probably passed out, the other night when Sam got back from a late-night study group at Green Library. Personally, he thought Joe either had an overactive imagination or was incredibly paranoid; however, there was no way Sam would ever tell Joe that. Not when he might be forced to intimate that he knew something of the supernatural.

Knew? Hell, Sam participated in the worst kinds of hunts, watched Dad and Dean kill things he never conceived of. He could write the best-seller if he wanted to.

Instead, he sighed. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Whatever, Winchester,” Joe said and turned the television back on full blast. “You’re such a non-believer.”

 _No I’m not; that’s the problem._ Grabbing his book bag, Sam shoved his history book into it and zipped it shut. “I’m going to the library to study,” he muttered and stood up. Without waiting for a response from his roommate, he walked out of the room and banged the door shut.

Next year, he was going to get a place off-campus.


End file.
